Smiling
by daemon-angelus
Summary: They call me the Child of God, and I smile, because it seems like the only thing I remember how to do. Yukimura POV.


**Disclaimer:** I don't own Prince of Tennis. I could never come up with such a badass character as Yukimura. To name a few (cough, Atobe, Sanada, Niou, Kirihara, Rikkai, cough).

(**Edit:** Angelina has pointed out that drabbles are supposed to be 100words only. Apparently I've gone around using words I don't really know the meaning to again. Stupidity has sunk to a new low. But thank you very much! We all learn heh. :)

Yukimura pwns. Period.

Done because... Just because. Yukimura is worth not studying for common tests anyway. I just felt like Yukimura. (I'm not sick, no worries.)

This takes place before Mura's surgery and after the visit from the Rikkai regulars (Episode 116. Can't believe I spent an hour watching random episodes trying to find that scene. And I didn't watch the MOST obvious episode first. Oh well. I love Rikkai enough.) Shit I just realised that's about a day's time for this to happen. (I was actually thinking at least a few days interspaced in between) ahh, to hell with canon.

First person POV. Yes, obviously Yukimura's POV. (Oh for the first sentence, I know hospitals don't allow cell phones but er, maybe he keeps it in some radiation-sealing drawer?)

* * *

I flipped my phone shut, the soft 'clack' echoing throughout the plain white room. My lavender eyes came level with the wall opposite me. _It hurts._

The white was burning, too clean, too pure, too immaculate.

The same couldn't be said for me though, I thought bitterly.

And then, I smiled.

I thought back to the last text message I had received. How many had I gotten ever since people started finding out about my illness? I snorted, or at least, attempted to. Apparently, being polite and graceful was so ingrained into my subconscious I couldn't make an unpleasant sound even if I wanted to. _Damn you. _A small part of me nagged at the other parts of my brain for the comment. It wasn't nice, it said.

To hell with it. I was _dying_, for God's sake.

And then, I smiled.

What was I thinking about previously? Oh yes. Messages. I blinked, shook my head. Too many, I hadn't been keeping count. Why did it matter? They were mostly just well-wishes anyway.

It's not like I didn't appreciate the people who wanted me to get better. It's just... hard to appreciate it when you didn't really believe in yourself getting better.

And then, I smiled.

I saw my soft expression in the window, the reflection more translucent than I liked. It was scary. _He_ was scary. He was me. Fading away, slowly, surely.

What had I become?

Somehow, my hand made its way to my face. Somehow, I felt my damp skin against my palms. Somehow, I continued smiling.

It didn't seem real. Not just the smile. The room, the reflection, the messages, _everything_.

And suddenly, they all flashed through my mind.

I was there, in my first year, still a freshman in Rikkai's tennis club, and yet, I was there, holding up the trophy. The _National championship t_rophy. Sanada was beside me. His hardened face betrayed no emotion, but I saw the glint in his eyes. His eyes betrayed his heart, always. Not like mine. My cold lavender eyes were a mask. People knew, so they always accepted the smile I put on.

I remembered. I was smiling that day.

Something inside me wasn't satisfied though. It seemed to say, '_What next_?'

I smiled, the answer was as clear as day.

Back-to-back national champions.

The need was insatiable; the fire that burned within me only grew stronger, more ferocious. Still, I smiled through all the practises, all the extra laps, all the times I patted Akaya on the back and said, "Don't fail us." I was, _am_, the captain. And the smile was the only way I could control myself from snapping from my desperate need for victory. They needed me. I was, _am_, captain. I am Mura-buchou, as some of the regulars affectionately put it.

And Mura-buchou was known as the Child of God.

It had all been silly really. Magazines, newspapers, television shows, they just needed new material to sell their products. Propagate. Like evil viruses that eat away at your bodily functions. (I smiled, as always.) So he, she, they, (nameless, amorphous, like always) decided that giving a name to the new captain of kings Rikkai would be a great advertisement and seller for their goods.

Oh what a name. And I thought Sannin Bakemono was as laughable as they came.

_**The Child of God.**_

My first thought was that staunch religious followers would probably point and shout "Blasphemy!" in my face on the streets. Thankfully, nothing of that sort has ever happened.

Either the media wasn't as penetrating into society as I'd thought or (have mercy on us) people actually _accepted_ that I was God's gift to junior high tennis.

Of course, I smiled.

It's not like it was a bad name. I thought it was kind of cool.

Up until winter last year, that was.

It had been a normal training session. Well, what was normal at Rikkai was probably considered hellish at other schools but champions have their pride to keep. And I was determined, confidant, _certain_, that we'd be keeping it for the third time. I had my smile on, as always, watching the others hit balls with pinpoint (but not perfect) accuracy and running laps still a little too slow by my standards.

Then, my legs buckled and I blacked out.

It was so sudden; the next thing I knew I was staring up at a light on the ceiling I knew wasn't mine. The room wasn't mine, although I hadn't turned to look at it properly. It didn't smell like mine.

It smelled like death.

I was told why later. I was in the hospital.

I smiled, like always, as the doctor (I couldn't be bothered to remember his name. They were all passing faces anyway) told me what I had been inflicted with. _Guillain-Barre Syndrome_. If I hadn't been smiling, I would have looked shocked (_It's so sudden!_), horrified (_Why me?_), scared (_Am I going to die?_).

But I was smiling.

I rarely pondered about my smile. Some said it had a calming effect, others said it was just plain creepy. I always thought of it as a mask, to make me look strong, even when I was so terribly weak. And it made me seem nicer than I really was. It was a show, a masquerade, one I did almost unconsciously.

It was scary. But it helped. In the most ironic of ways.

It calmed Kirihara's nerves when he started panicking about me possibly never being able to play tennis again. It prevented an argument between Marui and Niou when the redhead ate the cake the regulars had bought for me when they came to visit. It seemed to assure Yanagi, Yagyuu and Jackal that their buchou would definitely make a full recovery. It ignited Sanada's determination to win their match against Seigaku. Against our eventual opponent in the National finals (whoever they were). _To win our third consecutive National championship. _

Something snapped me back to reality.

_It wasn't real. It never had been. Child of God, Rikkai, National champions, that match with Sanada in the Junior Tournament, tennis, life._

_Yukimura Seiichi._

I was the Child of God? _THIS_ was what it meant to be blessed?

I laughed, cruelly, mockingly.

And for the first time, I wasn't smiling anymore.

* * *

Blinks. I'm actually quite proud of this -sheepish smile-

Reviews are much appreciated :) Mura-buchou will give you laps, er I mean, COOKIES! YES, COOKIES! With little 'R's on them! :D


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